


Legacies

by Amilyn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: After Aftermath, Aftermath (Wendig), Alderaan, Bail Organa - Freeform, Ben Solo (in utero), Breha Organa - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Disney Canon, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Inter-Canon, Loss of Parent(s), Meeting the Parents, Parents, Post RotJ, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Psychological Trauma, Refugees, The Force, Trauma, Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 18:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13218777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amilyn/pseuds/Amilyn
Summary: Han meets Leia’s parents as they find their place after the war.





	Legacies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starwarsforthegays](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=starwarsforthegays).



> Written for @starwarsforthegays in the Tumblr Han/Leia Secret Santa Holiday Exchange 2017. Thanks to OldToadWoman, Wiliqueen, and Organanation for beta-reading, suggestions, reassurances, and nudges to make things make more sense.

_"...consequently, and with the full encouragement and support of my wife, Queen Breha of Alderaan, and of the people whom we serve, Alderaan will welcome no fewer than 50,000 refugees for resettlement from this terrible conflict effective immediately, and--"_

"What are you doing?" Leia's throat felt full, but swallowing didn't help.

Han paused the holo-recording and turned. "Hey, sweetheart." He caressed the sides of her rounded belly. "Hey, kid. I'm meeting your grandfather over here."

Leia rolled her eyes. "Han, must you?"

"Yep, your highnessness, I 'must'." He kissed her belly and pulled her onto his lap, one hand still spanning her abdomen, the other supporting her back. He pressed his lips gently to hers, grinned at her, then kissed her again.

She pointed at the holo. "I ask again: what are you doing?"

"Like I told the kid, I think it's about time I got to know your folks."

"Han--"

He held up one finger, and she pursed her lips, still unsure why she went along with it when he silenced her that way. "I've already married you, and we're having a baby, and all I know about your parents is how they died." He pressed play again.

_"...effective immediately, and to repeat every three to four Galactic months as stability is gained for those joining us--"_

Bail's speech continued, his deep voice droning instead of comforting. _They all died,_ she realized, feeling suddenly ill. She'd assisted with greeting refugee children, offering fruit and welcome. _All those people we thought we helped… They all died when Alderaan--_ Her breath caught, uneven. Han squeezed her shoulder, and, in front of Bail's regal blue with the black and gold trim, Alderaan appeared, glowed in space, and shattered.

She paused the holo, but all she saw was Alderaan, exploding before her over and over. The hand tightened on her shoulder and she could feel the needle pricks and bruises beneath the mechanical fingers that dug in. She stiffened. The baby shifted entirely to her left, distorting her abdomen.

"Leia? Leia!"

The baby somersaulted. A warm hand covered her cheek and turned her head.

"Leia, you're right here with me. It's Han. Leia? Leia, you're here--"

She jerked away from his hand, determinedly lifting her chin. "My father? You _met_ my father. He tortured you and almost killed you. That's what I come from, what I'm passing on to this baby." She moved to get up.

He held her thigh, insisting, "Nuh-uh. We're not doing this."

Her heart raced and the baby seemed to think her insides were a trampoline. Her jaw was so rigid it ached. "Han, let me go."

He moved his hand and she stood, already walking away as her feet hit the floor.

"Still gonna talk about this," came her husband's voice from behind her.

She left their apartment, wishing for the satisfaction of slamming a non-mechanical door. The _whoosh_ of the automatic wasn't the same. But she hadn't had a hinged door since Alderaan.

Hell, this apartment was the first _home_ she'd had since Alderaan, unless she counted the Senatorial quarters she'd maintained but rarely stayed in while being a double agent for the Rebellion. Before Alderaan.

"The Disaster," survivors called it.

It was disastrous, to be sure, but Leia was angry and empty all over again every time she heard it.

She vibrated with rage in time to her steps as she walked.

A "disaster" just...happened. Alderaan had been destroyed, demolished, disintegrated, obliterated. Actual people had taken active steps. Choices--including hers--had led to it. Orders, decisions, buttons pressed. Deliberate actions. Even though all the people who'd made those choices--except her--were dead, they had been conscious, premeditated, purposeful.

The Empire had made a carefully-considered target out of Alderaan, had blown it into an asteroid graveyard to make a point. To intimidate. Because they could.

Before she realized consciously where she was headed, Leia was well into the nearest park in Hanna City. The carefully planned layout was beautiful, focused on creating geometric shapes from organic flora. Alderaan's parks had been more...natural, more welcoming. Chandrilan parks were intended as public displays of artistic order.

There would never, no matter the intentions of the Alderaanian Diaspora's plans for a memorial, be a way to bring back home. Or her parents.

Han would never meet them. Her son would never meet them. She would never see them again.

 _Never. Ne-ver. Ne-ver,_ her shoes beat out in rhythm against the duracrete. _Ne-ver. E-ver._

The scent of winter spices and fire wafted toward her as she entered a semicircle of ancient, densely leafy Chandrilan trees she'd yet to learn the species name for. The Chinar tree was a gift from Queen Breha to the Chandrilan capital as a sign of friendship, and it had been planted in their shelter of those denser trees to protect it from excess sun.

Leia closed her eyes and breathed in _home_. She reached for the ground and sat awkwardly at its base, leaning against its craggy trunk and remembering Luke's few quick lessons.

She breathed out, feeling but exhaling her anger. Her back sank into the ridged bark of the tree, and the energy of the Force in the tree absorbed and funneled away her rage. The essence of the tree, she felt, grieved as she did.

Chandrila had taken her in, sheltering her in the aftermath of so much destruction, just as her parents had taken her in and sheltered her from the rise of the Empire, just as the Chandrilan trees sheltered the Chinar tree. She felt the Chinar tree reach out with an energy that she now knew was what Alderaan had felt like through the Force...before she'd known she could feel a Force signature.

She brought her hands to her stomach. "I'm sorry, baby. I am trying not to be so angry. I am happy, truly. And hopeful. We haven't won the war yet, but we're close. Closer than we've ever been." She stroked a spot where the baby moved gently, tapping back in a way Han called "poke-a-boo" after a children's looking and hiding game from Corellia. "We will make a peace for you to live in, baby. You'll have a home, parents, love, just like I had."

"I thought I'd find you here."

She jumped.

"Didn't mean to startle you, sweetheart." He was sitting on the half-circle bench facing the tree.

She stroked what was probably an elbow or a foot.

"He still moving around?"

She smiled. "He's calmer now."

"Seems pretty attuned to you."

She nodded. She had to work on managing her feelings; she was so quickly angered, so impatient, so easily irritated and frustrated. She stretched a shoulder up to make more room to breathe.

"Hey, that wasn't a criticism, Leia."

She wouldn't meet his eyes. If she did, she might get angry all over again. This impossible man always knew exactly where her soft spots were, why her fuse was short, how frustrating she found it someone saw through her so easily, even him. If he'd been an Imperial, she'd never have lasted as long as she had as a double agent. She took a deep breath of the scented air under the tree.

Han sat down next to her. "I meant what I said, earlier."

She turned, looked at him through her eyelashes, "Oh?"

"I'm not doing this thing where I see you or this kid as coming from Vader--or Anakin, or whatever Luke calls him. He wasn't your father."

She swallowed, nodded slightly. She knew that. Part of her knew that.

"Now, Bail Organa… I should have watched the holos we still have long ago, sweetheart, when I was trying to figure you out." He chuckled. "It's all right there."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Yep. The Viceroy-Consort-Senator...gods, Leia, you are exactly like him." He shook his head slowly. "What did you do? Practice his speeches in a mirror?"

"You-- How did you know that?"

He pointed. "You did, didn't you?"

"How did you-- No one ever saw me!"

"Hell, if I had a model like that as my dad? I would have imitated every move he made. The Viceroy was something else." Han leaned toward her ear. "Of course, no one probably would have noticed the similarity. I mean, the Viceroy was _really_ tall, and you're--"

She swatted his arm with the backs of her fingers, still not looking at him, but finally able to smile. 

"Hitting too close to home again, sweetheart?" He grinned. That crooked, insufferable grin. He took her hand. "I never really understood what your parents were to you, how much a part of you they are. You have his stance, that relaxed imperiousness. I have no idea how either of you do it. You use his voice too...calm, quiet, but every _word_ 's an order. And underneath it all is your mother's warmth. I looked up Queen Breha, watched her speak at your investiture."

Leia drew a shuddering breath. "I haven't watched...listened...I hadn't seen them. Not since…"

"Not at all?"

She shook her head. "It hurt too much. Just to see them as they were and not have more...I never could."

"Aw, sweetheart. I wouldn't have blindsided you if I'd known." He kissed the top of her head. "I was so young when my mom died...but I lost a parent too, so I thought it was the same." He shrugged. "I didn't get it till today. I knew they loved you. You're so secure, so certain...you grew up adored. But to see it. They glow when they talk about you or look at you. It comes right off the holos. What you lost is so far beyond...anything." He stroked her abdomen again. "I don't think I understood just how hard it must be, knowing how much they'd adore this fella if they were here."

"Yeah," she breathed.

"You never let it sink in before. S'why you worked 18-hour days, volunteered for or assigned yourself to every mission. You keep moving, you don't have to think too hard, and you keep working to finish what they started."

Leia narrowed her eyes. "When did you get so introspective, Han Solo?"

"When I found out I was going to live to be a father, I guess. Makes for a helluva different perspective." He took her hand. "You're stuck with me for this whole thing. Lelila."

She gasped. "Oh, you did not!"

He just grinned. "You ready to head home?"

"Yes."

He stood and she reached up to him.

"Help me and your son up off the ground."

She tucked her arm into his. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"S'okay. We always work things out."

"I think I'm glad you found that particular speech. We're making plans for war refugees. It seems the right time to use Father's words for one of his treasured goals."

"Bringing home helpless little ones who need a home?"

"Yeah. That."

"I know they'd be so proud."

Leia glanced back at the tree. "I wish they were here."

"Me too, sweetheart. Me too."

*~***~***~*


End file.
